Avada Kedavra
by Kira Regulus Black
Summary: "Avada Kedavra." Two words that turned the world upside down. Horcuxes, evil!Voldie, and world domination.


"_**Avada Kedavra!"**_

The final battle ended with a killing curse, surprisingly quick and bloodlessly. It was almost easy to believe Voldemort had not died. Hermione would have stood there for hours in a dazed state of shock were it not for the crumpled body of the man who had terrorized wizardkind for the better part of a century lying bonelessly on the ground, red eyes clouded in defeat. Death had claimed him at last. Then, of course, she had celebrated with the rest of the wizarding world.

She had begun to notice Harry's odd behavior then. She would catch him muttering to himself sometimes, slipping in and out of Parseltongue as he muttered about archaic things she had never heard of before. He seemed constantly distracted and disoriented, occasionally becoming so clumsy that she had to order out of his own personal potions lab for fear of a deadly explosion. He hadn't taken kindly to that, but Hermione stood firm. Harry was her friend, her first friend, and she would protect him even if it meant his anger.

He was so fascinated by things- dark things- that he _shouldn't _be, constantly flicking through ancient rituals and other such nonsense, fingering his wand almost lovingly. She had caught him in the Restricted Section and the Ministry Archives more than once. It was the _look_ on his face during these 'outings' that scared her. It was a hungry look, one that spoke of insanity. She dared not speak of it to anyone- Harry was no animal to be caged or studied, he was fine, surely. She could cure him.

Hermione stepped up her efforts in researching and trying to catch Harry, investing all of her considerable brainpower and energy. His efforts had also increased (Hermione catching him nearly on a daily basis now, whether from his frustration or her persistence, she didn't know) and she was slowly being worn down simply by dint of the _sheer number_ of times she had to drop everything and come running because one of her Harry-sensors had gone off. Harry, quite frankly, was beginning to scare her with his newfound obsession.

Then, about a month after his pseudo-death at Voldemort's hand, Harry transformed.

Antisocial and shy at best before, he now flitted around social circles like the most outgoing of people, handing out compliments like a seasoned politician. Hermione had trouble keeping up with him. His previous awkwardness gone, he quickly gained the favor of hundred; even the most snobby millionaires and stolid, upright sorts unable to resist his charm and friendly openness.

His nightly visits to olden books had ended, completely. There had not been a single alarm set off since that day. Hermione wanted to believe he had changed, she really did. And yet, he seemed perfect, too perfect. The change had been so abrupt. He was a completely person now. It was if the Harry she knew had been replaced- first by a brooding, angsty boy and then by a social butterfly, the perfect boyfriend.

As time went by, though, she couldn't help but think the changes were real. That this was just a side of Harry that she had never seen before. That was the day they found Harry in the ruins of his house, the Dark Mark floating above his house in an eerie shade of green. He had died clutching his wand.

In the following weeks, the short peacetime seemed like a golden dream. Wizardkind shuddered in their houses, all but giving up, as attacks ravaged the countryside. Some days, it seemed as if the Death Eaters were _everywhere_. The Ministry soon caved after Fudge was executed publicly at wandpoint in Diagon Alley. A cloaked figure had spoken the words in the hissing cadence of Parseltongue.

"_**Avada Kedavra."**_

Two simple words turned the world upside down. There was no choice _but_ to believe Voldemort was back. But how? Hermione searched frantically for the answer. Did he have another Horcrux? Another failsafe?

The Order was revived, its members grim. But even they could barely hold the newly invigorated Death Eaters at bay. A person would work side by side with others the first day- then return the next to find them all dead or traitorous. Dementors roamed Britain, taking nearly as many lives as the Death Eaters. Morale plunged to an all-time low.

Hermione herself worked to the bone, flitting from attack to attack, cutting a swathe through Voldemort's Death Eaters. But even she could only do so much, and the Order eventually had to retreat into the barricaded Department of Mysteries. The shelves that once held scores of crystal-bound prophecies now bore witness to scattered groups of war-worn refugees. Still the Death Eaters came.

Hermione found herself enlisted in a daring last-ditch plan to defeat Voldemort in the hopes that the Death Eaters would at least temporarily scatter. It was a suicide mission, and all of the enlisted knew it. It was etched into the grim expressions, the deep worry lines, the weary efficiency as they dispensed yet more members to be slaughtered.

Hermione had Harry's invisibility cloak slung about her as she crept down the deserted hallways of the Ministry of Magic, wand raised and jumping at every small noise. She emerged through a section of _**reducto'd **_wall, gasping slightly as fresh air cascaded over her. The blue sky seemed too vivid, the grass crunching under her feet delightfully. Had the outdoors really been this wonderful? How had she let this treasure slip past in the idyllic days of Hogwarts? They seemed so distant now. A glorious dream.

A pang struck her heart as she snuck past the death Eater sentries. Harry. Poor, sweet Harry. Her fevered emotions honed her resolve to a diamond sheen. An almost fevered gleam settled into her eyes. She _would_ avenge Harry.

Hermione expertly bivouacked, her eyes trained on the entrance to the Ministry of Magic. Voldemort would deliver his ultimatum at dawn. She would have one clear shot. She dozed fitfully, never for more than one minute at a time.

Dawn came far too soon, the sun streaking the sky with hues of vibrant pink, orange and gold. Hermione crouched, alert, in her hiding place and watched the entrance like a hawk. A crack like a gunshot rang around the clearing as a cloaked and hooded figure appeared.

Hermione smiled grimly. Voldemort had arrived. Showtime.

She took careful aim, then fired of a _**reducto**_ at his head, then cursed as he ducked suddenly. He turned to face her, a brisk wind springing up. It ripped of his hood, throwing his shadowed features into sharp relief. A few wisps of ebony hair floated askew in the breeze.

Hermione felt he heart stop. "H-Harry?"

He sneered, familiar features twisting into an ugly mask. Harsh crimson eyes glared out at her from a dead man's face. And the words she'd never thought he'd say slipped from his lips.

"_**Avada Kedavra."**_

* * *

><p>AN: For any of those people who are confused (and I know there will be at least _ONE_) Harry was killed by he killing curse, instead of the Horcrux. The AK then rebounded and killed Voldemort. Harry was clumsy at first because the Horcrux was getting used to having its own body again. The Horcrux took advantage of Harry's current fame to get access to illegal curses/rituals etc. that he was unable to access as T.M.R./Voldemort. He then had someone killed under Polyjuice so he could take over and not have 'Harry' be suspected.

Other than that... WHY ARE ARE ALL MY FREAKIN' CHAPTERS DISAPPEARING? I'VE LOST AT LEAST THREE DIFFERENT ONES FROM VARIOUS STORIES, _AND_ MY FLASHDRIVE THAT I STORE ALL MY STORIES ON!


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